


Hot Blood

by Elizabeth1985



Series: Cockles [13]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Cockles, Hot AF Misha, Jensen Singing, Jensen fingering himself, Jensen has a sex playlist, Jensen riding Misha, M/M, POV Jensen, Wild Sex, bottom!Jensen, fast and desperate, fluff and love as always in there too, jibcon, tipsy desperate sex, top!Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11144133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985/pseuds/Elizabeth1985
Summary: It was another night out in Rome. Conversation thrumming in the air, empty bottles on the table. Jensen met Misha’s eyes across the long table and he remembered exactly why he loved Rome as much as he did. The murmur of noise seemed to dim, a trick of his redirected focus. Maybe the wine saturating his blood too.They stared at one another, a silent conversation taking place.Are you ready to leave,he asked with an upward flick of his brows.Misha smiled with his eyes, a faint quirk of his lip.Yes.





	Hot Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Just some more cockles smut because I can't help myself. Let me know if there's any glaring errors. Thx babes.

Jensen was wired, alive. The whole cast had gone out for drinks and the wine and laughter flowed for hours. He was reaping in the atmosphere, savouring the familiar cobbled streets and persistent vendors.

But sometime after midnight, he met Misha’s eyes across the long table and he remembered exactly why he loved Rome as much as he did. The conversation seemed to dim, a trick of his redirected focus. Maybe the wine saturating his blood too.

They stared at one another, a silent conversation taking place. _Are you ready to leave_ , he asked with an upward flick of his brows.

Misha smiled with his eyes, a faint quirk of his lip, _Yes._  

*    *    * 

Fifteen minutes later, the cab was dropping them off back at the hotel. They detoured right, taking a back entrance only the cast was permitted to use, and staff of course. They were quiet, trading a look here and there. Heated interest building in the silence.

After a few close calls over the years, they were careful. They fought the urge to touch each other. Except in the elevator, where it was a goddamn free-for-all; Jensen slammed Misha against the wall and planted him with a hard, devouring kiss, hands searching for an ass to grab.

A muffled, “ _fuck,”_ greeted his lips but he was careless and desperate. Curling his hips, Jensen grinded against Misha’s crotch, craving the feel of his excitement. He groaned in the back of his throat as their clothed erections collided, hard lines dragging together—

_Ding._

Misha shoved him back, panting, hunger and need dark in his crystal blue eyes.

Now _that’s_ the kind of look that does a man in. Jensen let out a pointed exhale through his mouth, adrenaline racing in his veins. He cast a glance towards the hallway, it was empty. “Time to get this fucking party started.”

Misha’s lip curled, looking ferocious.

Taking that cue, Jensen raced out of the elevator and let his long strides carry him to the far end of the hall where his room was. For appearances’ sake, they never officially shared a room, but they slept next to each other every night, every con.

Finally in the room, door locked, Jensen plugged in his phone and navigated to a playlist. Kaleo’s _Hot Blood_ set the tone, pouring out through bluetooth speakers he’d stolen from Jared.

Misha began undressing, rough in his actions—practically tearing his shirt off. Eyes set on Jensen, he stalked forward.

Fired up, Jensen licked and bit his lips, goading his man on. “ _They don’t know ‘bout who we are,_ ” he sang, “ _They don’t know about… you and I._ ” Talk about a perfect song or what. _Ha._ He winked at Mish, shaking his hips. Continuing to sing along, he shucked his clothes. Tossed his shirt at Misha’s face, watched him bat it away and move closer still.

“You’re gonna be sore tomorrow, cowboy,” Misha warned.

Jensen smirked, ignoring the comment, singing instead, “ _And then you get up and get up and get up again... Ohhh lord!_ ”

Divesting the last of his clothes, Misha kicked away his jeans and boxers. He stood before Jensen erect, eyes nearly black, chest rising and falling quickly.

The song switched as they killed the space between them; another sultry beat, _Easy Money_ by Kennedy Cult. Jensen had two sex playlists—one for quiet nights or slow sunday afternoons, and one for nights when he wanted fast, hard, and wild.

As Misha cornered him, Jensen reached out and threw his arms around the other man’s neck. “Fuckin’ bout time,” he breathed, drawing Misha in for a sharp kiss. Their lips crashed, mouths parted and tongues pushed together; slick and warm and fucking amazing. Jesus it had been a long night.

The kiss was _not_ a pretty thing. It was all Jensen could do not to growl and bite. As it was, Misha’s fingers dug into his skin and his own hands tangled in Misha’s hair. They’d been eye-fucking each other all night, building up to this. He wanted to _taste_ the flavour of wine on Misha’s tongue, feel the alcohol left to dry on his lips. Wanted to run his tongue down the length of Misha’s throat, his chest, and wind up somewhere between his legs and see if he’d be able to catch the distinct notes of Rome’s climate on his skin.

They angled their faces, opening up more to each other. It was a goddamn feast and he was still hungry. Totally uncoordinated, zero finesse. A shameless tongue-fucking if ever there was one.

Nipping the other’s lips, an impatient growl or two rose between them. Jensen fisted a chunk of Misha’s hair and wrenched his head back, exposing the gorgeous stretch of his throat. His adam’s apple bobbed and a faint soft groan hit the air. Jensen opened his mouth and sucked a line of kisses down to his collarbone, using teeth and tongue in equal measure. Fucking all out rubbing the scruff of his beard against the exposed sensitive skin, knowing it made dirty Mr. Dmitri so very weak in the knees.

Jensen smiled to himself, catching the subtle hitch in Misha’s stance.

When he rose back up to resume the kiss, Mish reached for his ass and jerked him close, their hips slamming together, stiff cocks cramped between them. Damn Misha’s skin was hot, enticing and heady. Jensen lifted his arms and captured his face, dominating the kiss, taking it. “Fuck, I want you,” he groaned, taking a few steps, forcing them back towards the bed.

Misha roped an arm around his waist and panted against his mouth, “Been thinking about it all goddamn week.”

A chuckle tickled up his throat and he hummed, “Oh yeah, details please.”

The song switched, _You Don’t Know What It’s Like_ , and he hummed the tune against Misha’s shoulder as he waited for an answer. Groping his way over the smooth planes of Misha’s skin, feeling every familiar curve of muscle, pinching him and grabbing however he wanted.

There was low growl from Misha, and then, “Everything,” he breathed. “Wanting the taste of your tongue in my mouth, to sleep in a bed that smells like you, probably come and sweat too…” They laughed. “I want you to ride me,” he told Jensen, “the way you do when you’ve lost control.”

Fuckin’ hell. “That,” he heaved for air, brushing his face into the curve of Misha’s neck, “that can be arranged.” His thighs trembled just thinking about it.

In these moments, nights like this, they didn’t hold back. They said what they wanted and what they felt. Nothing was off limits.

Their jobs didn’t afford them a lot of time together, and families always came first. So when they were together, it was no holds barred. Jensen would have it no other way.

He reared back and shoved Misha on to the bed, standing over him, watching the sinful picture the dark-haired man made. Naked, erect, and framed by a crisp and clean navy blue comforter. Time to make a mess of it, he smirked.

The chorus of the song pumping through the room was suddenly baited, a poignant silence seconds before acute hard rock blasted away the quiet, and then he was singing again, “ _You don’t know what it’s liiiike, what it’s like, ohhh yeah!_ ”

Jensen hopped and turned back, his dick jutting out from his hips and bobbing with every step—as staunchly eager as he was. Opening the drawer beneath the TV, he snagged the bottle of lube. He went back, crawling to the bed and draping himself over Misha.

Misha’s blue eyes met his, the music fading into the background as the man beneath him dominated his world. Though the room wasn’t quiet by any means, a figurative silence sat heavy between them, their mutual affection weaving in. “Missed you,” he murmured, voice barely heard over the music.

“Love you,” replied Misha, his features soft. He looked at Jensen with sobering, consuming affection.

Jensen gave a wobbly smile, his chest tight, and popped the cap of the lube. Another Kaleo song came on, a heavy bluesy beat.

He slicked his fingers as Misha watched, and then reached back and—starting very slow—pushed into himself. A rushed exhale escaped, slipping over his tongue. His eyes fluttered open and closed as he absorbed both sensations, the tight warmth of his own body and the smooth glide of his finger as he worked it in deeper.

Dark blue eyes studied him, heat simmering as they caught every flicker and twinge flashing through Jensen’s expression as he fingered himself. Now two fingers, awkwardly reaching back. Each push in, he breathed out, until he could no longer close his mouth. Until he was panting and rotating his hips.

“Here,” he impatiently, breathlessly, thrust the bottle into Misha’s hand. “Get that gorgeous cock ready for me.”

Misha’s lip curved up, amused. “Demanding tonight.”

He flashed Mish a heated look. “Yes,” he said tightly.

When Misha was ready, holding his glistening cock steady, Jensen braced his thighs and planted his hands on Misha’s chest… easing his hips back. The swollen head of Misha’s cock sank wetly between his cheeks, nudging tight against his rim. Pushing, holding back. A little more pressure and… almost.

“Uhh, fuck,” he cursed, breaking out in a feverish sweat.

Grinning, Misha called out in a rough ascending tone, “ _Jensen Ackles, come on down._ ”

He gave a shaky laugh, head angled back, his eyes peeking down at Misha. How dare that man mock him as he squatted there, legs spread, joints all full of jitters like it was the first damn time. Geez.

With his thighs quivering under the strain, he sank back in as controlled of a motion as he could. “Ahhh,” he hissed, his body opening and taking Misha in. The warm, hard invasion blinded him. His own erection kicked. “Mmngh, fuck Mish.”

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face, and _Christ_ , it was hot in here!

Reaching out, Misha helped to steady him—their fingers laced together. Then he slowly took every last inch of Misha in, feeling full and stretched to the brink of _holy shit_ until he finally, marginally, relaxed.

Nerve endings lit up, his body full of rolling heat. It took him a moment to settle and catch his breath. Another song came on, _Way Down We Go_ , and he couldn’t fucking wait to lose himself. All the earlier wine made his head feel heavy, his skin damp... Probably seeping alcohol from his pores. But fuck if he wasn't more aroused by it.

Bracing himself on Misha’s raised hands, he tightened their fingers together—holding on, cramping their knuckles—and started to rise up and sink down. Filling and emptying himself, pleasure and discomfort one and the same.

To the sultry pace of the beat in the background, he rode Misha hard. Too exhausted to keep up with a measured pace. Having planted his feet and adjusted, he made a spectacle of himself. His thighs rock-hard, aching, more trickles of sweat snaked down the back of his beck. Harsh noises tore out of his mouth, broken grunts of exertion and strained whimpers as he fought to keep steady.

Everything drifted out of focus, and he felt little else beyond the rigid sex driving into him, the way his bones rattled when he dropped down without control, how his stiff sex jutted from the centre of his hips and bounced obscenely in the space between them. If only their hands weren’t clamped together.

_AHhh… Christ._

“Holy fuck, Jensen…” Misha praised, his eyes blown wide and fixated.

Arousal flared and faded, pressure building in the pit of his stomach. Everything tingled, felt too hot. Way too hot. His skin prickled as beads of sweat rolled down his back, the centre of his chest, all while he rocked up and down, grinding his hips. Misha’s rigid cock was a mind-numbing source of pleasure, taking him higher… going deeper. And… “God, you’re hard!” he yelled over the noise of music and slapping skin. It almost hurt, almost… if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

Shit, he was getting tired. His thighs were burning with the strain now, hard to ignore, and he couldn’t hold out much longer. He went still, hovering over Mish, legs splayed and ass still full. “I’m losing… _ahh…_ ”  he panted in broken gasps, “losing energy here, you-you gotta take over.”

Misha grinned, sinister almost. He parted Jensen’s knees further and braced the underside of his thighs, taking some of his weight, pushing him up. _Goddamn_ Misha was strong. The only place their skin touched was Misha’s palms on his hamstrings and the head of the man’s cock just barely inside his ass. Fucking tease.

“Ready?” asked Misha, chin tipped back as he shot Jensen a devilish smirk. Dark blue eyes set on him. Still in the midst of a fight for oxygen, Jensen nodded loosely. Fuck words.

With a grunt, Misha snapped his hips up in one sharp thrust.

“Ah fuckin’ right…” Jensen moaned, blinking in a daze, his body taking the brute force of those runners thighs. “Give it good, Dmitri.”

They shared a smile, both their cheeks flushed, foreheads shiny, lips swollen.

Jensen was _not_ disappointed.

Misha slammed into him over and over, sending bursts of pleasure roaring through his body. Balancing on one arm, he reached for his dick and starting to fuck his hand as fast as he could.

Sucking back inhale after inhale, and was _still_ short on air. He panted, broken demands, “Oh fuck, oh my god… _Oh, god._ Fuuuck, harder Mish.”

All the wine, and the pounding music had him floating, delirious. His nerves on fire, overwrought. Sensations bordering on too much. Misha rutted into him, blunt cock ramming against his prostate. He hissed, “ _Aahhhh-hhh_.” And trembled. His abs clenching repeatedly. “ _Ooooh,_ _Jesus_ _Chrissst…_ ”

Misha fucked him hard and fast, their bodies colliding in sweaty slaps. His heart hammered inside his chest.

“Jensen, I’m gonna come—”

“Mmngh, fuuuck yesss,” he growled, drawing the words out. His fist tight and pumping the throbbing length of his erection.

A loud moan, _Misha’s_ , cut through the room… rough and unbroken. Inside, Jensen felt the full girth of Misha’s sex swell and surge as he started to come. It drove Jensen insane, relief and a sense of power blazing through his veins, giving him a cloudy high. Come started to leak and trickle down the curve of his ass to his thighs.

“Jensen, ohh, god. Ahh, stop fucking, ahahh, clenching on me, it’s-it’s… _fuuuck._ ” Misha mumbled through a clenched jaw.

But Jensen couldn’t stop. Drug-like euphoria had already taken over and he strained towards release, mindless desperation now. He knew he was shaking, that his ass kept rhythmically tightening around Misha but for the life of him he couldn’t hold back.

Opening his eyes, he pegged Misha with a look, raw and intense as he sat there straining around Misha’s dick and jerking his own, fast and hard. “Ahhh come on, come on,” he chanted to himself, pressure and bliss soaring on the edge. “Fuuuuck, mmmnngh,” he grated through his teeth, impatient for it. Borderline crazy to come.

Thighs flexing and softening, shaking all-over, he finally hit the peak of his climax, rapidly squeezing his now aching cock, his body jerking hard, abs clenching reflexively as he fired jets of come all over Misha, not caring a goddamn lick about getting him in the face either. The man knew to close his eyes by know.

Every gush of release was like a small explosion had gone off in his pelvis, his cock tender and his balls sore.

Jensen collapsed on Misha, absently wiping come from his cheek. “Fuckin’ christ,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “God-fucking-damn.”

“Yeah,” came Misha’s response, breathless. “That was… I don’t even have words.”

Finally. A speechless Misha Collins. He huffed a laugh, finally drawing in a full breath and it was the best gulp of air he'd ever had. His chest competed against Misha’s for more. Both of them disgustingly covered in sweat. “I’m dead. My cock is tired and my thighs are on _fire!_ ”

“What about your ass?” teased Misha, a finger suddenly at his rim and giving him a little tap.

Oh, yeah. Jensen braced his weak muscles and started to rise up. “Ahhh, yowch,” he hissed, clamping his teeth shut against the mild spark of pain. All those sex hormones were fading and he realized way the hell too late they should’ve relubed. “You broke me,” he playfully accused, voice taut.

“Sorry. We kinda… went a little crazy on each other there, didn’t we.”

He sighed, smiling softly. “I know, I friggin’ asked for it.” Moving was a strenuous thing, but he had too. He grumbled, wishing he were already passed out. Gingerly disentangling them, Jensen fell on the open side of the bed with a thick exhale and looked over.

Misha’s face was blissed out, cheeks still flushed, blue eyes bright with love. A very small amount of come on the side of his nose. Jensen giggled. “You, uh, got a little something there,” he pointed, laughing a little more.

“Shut up, come hydrant,” teased Misha.

“You shut up. _Come hose._ ”

“Jensen,” he griped, “you know we’re in our forties, right?”

“Hey, you started it… come sprinkler.”

They laughed in a burst, then sighed at the same time. Christ, it was late. Misha grabbed the edge of a blanket and haphazardly flung it over to cover them. “Kill the music, babe, time to crash.”

Jensen fumbled out of bed, taking a moment to wipe himself down and firing the dirty towel at Misha for the same. He walked over to his phone, acutely aware of how tender and sore he was, his legs wobbly. He swiped off the music, throwing the room into glorious silence and turned off all the lights before crawling back under the sex-scented sheets. It felt like he’d been gone an hour. His arms roped greedily around Misha, spooning him from behind.

Softly, he laid a kiss against the still damp skin of Misha’s back, “Mmm, love you.”

Not that he could see, but Misha smiled, no doubt about it. “Missed you…”     

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmnngghh, that was fun. I'm gonna go have some alone time now. Later gators. 
> 
>  


End file.
